This is game 20 of the 2012 baseball season.

In the first inning let’s take a look at This Week in Baseball History for the 3 week of May.

May 17

1970 Hank Aaron becomes the ninth major leaguer to have 3000 hits when he scratches an infield single off of Reds’ pitcher Wayne Simpson.

Wayne Kirby Simpson was born on December 2, 1948 in Los Angeles, California.

In his first season, Simpson started the year by winning 13 of his first 14 decisions, including a one-hitter, a two-hitter, and a three-hitter.  But shoulder problems limited him to just two appearances after July; he finished 14-3 with a 3.08 earned run average. The injury hampered Simposn for the rest of his career.

Al Oliver, then an opponent with the Pittsburgh Pirates remembered, “He was tough. Outstanding. I’d have to rate him right up there with Seaver and Carlton.”  Since Simpson was tall, black, and powerful, the most frequent comparison was Bob Gibson.

Wayne made a lasting impression not only on batters but also on his catcher with the Cincinnati Reds, the great Johnny Bench.  In 2002, when asked who threw the very hardest during his years behind the plate, Bench did not hesitate in his answer: “Wayne Simpson wore me out; no one threw harder than he did in 1970.”  Six years later, in his book Catch Every Ball, Bench reiterated, “I’ve never seen more explosive stuff.”

Then, on July 31, 1970, the right-hander’s dominance was gone with “a sudden pop.”  He had torn his rotator cuff.  Simpson joined a long list of pitching casualties; even today with the benefit of surgical advances, making it back from such an injury is no sure thing.  Yet Simpson hung on in the pros through early 1979, braving the shameful skepticism of those (including manager Sparky Anderson) who thought it was all in his head.  He literally almost pitched his arm off.  He quit only when the damage to blood vessels in his shoulder threatened him with loss of limb — or his very life.

Simpson began to attract the attention of big-league scouts in Legion ball.  Some of his standout performances included a no-hitter and a seven-inning one-hitter in which he struck out 20.  The Cincinnati Reds made him their first-round choice in the June 1967 amateur draft.

Control was Simpson’s nemesis, as he averaged six walks per nine innings in his first three pro seasons.  Sparky Anderson, who managed Simpson at Asheville in 1968 two years before taking over at Cincinnati, said, “I can remember many times when he walked the first three batters he faced.”   Simpson added, “I can remember walking as many as 12 batters that first summer I pitched at Sioux Falls.”

Simpson also threw 24 wild pitches in 1968, which led the Double-A Southern League.  Yet he showed clear promise, throwing another no-hitter in the Florida Instructional League that fall and advancing to Triple-A in 1969.

In October 1970, Simpson said, “Pitchers are capable of changing overnight, and that’s what happened to me.”  He gave credit to catcher Pat Corrales while they were both in the Minor Leagues.  “He worked with me on my control.  He got me to pitch in a more relaxed state of mind.”

Simpson had not expected to be with the big club at the start of the 1970 season.  But when he made his major-league debut at Dodger Stadium on April 9, it was spectacular.  He faced just 29 men, allowing two hits and walking none, in a 3-0 shutout.

The rookie’s third start was a one-hitter versus the San Francisco Giants at home.  His only loss in the season’s first half came in the following game because of unearned runs.  He modestly gave credit to the Big Red Machine offense for his winning percentage, but batting support was not camouflage.  Wildness was still an issue at times and he wasn’t striking out batters but his Earned Run Average was well below 3.00.

When Simpson beat the Astros 3-1 on July 5, allowing just four hits, Johnny Bench had glowing words.  “After one pitch Simpson made to Denis Menke, I turned to plate umpire Ken Burkhardt and said ‘I’m glad I’m catching and not hitting.’  A couple of times Simpson buried my hand in the glove with his fastball.  You never know which way his fastball is going to go.  It tails, it sinks, it sails.  You name it, his fastball does it.”  Bench went on to say about Simpson’s change-up, “I don’t know where he came up with the change but I sure hope he doesn’t lose it.  He throws it up to the plate and the bottom drops out.”

Simpson was off to one of the best starts ever by a rookie pitcher.  Sparky Anderson raved about not only his stuff but also his hard work and competitive spirit.  Opposing managers joined in the praise too.  Lum Harris of the Braves said, “If Simpson ever starts getting that fast ball of his over consistently, they can throw water on the fire and call the dogs because it’ll be all over.”  Gil Hodges of the Mets selected the rookie to the National League roster for the All-Star Game, which was held in Cincinnati’s Riverfront Stadium.  However, Simpson did not appear, even though the game went 12 innings.

After that, Simpson was 1-1 in three starts before blowing out his rotator cuff.  Billy Williams of the Cubs was at the plate.  Simpson later recalled the incident, “I threw a fastball and the whole shoulder seemed to give way.”  Somehow he got through that third inning, even recording another strike out to end it.  He retired to the dugout hoping his shoulder was just overworked, but it turned out to be a muscle tear with internal bleeding.

Simpson tried to get back in action twice, on August 14 and September 13.  He admitted in 1981 that rushing back was not the right thing to do.  “I didn’t know any better.  I just wanted to pitch.” He took Novocain to deaden the pain, and pitched anyway.  He couldn’t get past the third inning either time.  “I had no strength.  I couldn’t pick up the rosin bag.  The second time, in San Diego, the arm hemorrhaged.  Then they believed it was serious.”

The Reds sent Simpson to Dr. Robert Kerlan, the prominent orthopedic surgeon.  “I wasn’t worried,” the pitcher recalled in 1977. “ I expected him to tell me to rest my arm.  I thought I would rest it for the playoffs and the World Series.”  However, he was definitely not going to be ready for the postseason.  Dr. Kerlan warned, “Your arm is very muscular. It’s going to take three or four years to come back.”

Looking back in 2011, Simpson commented, “It was definitely too many innings in Puerto Rico, and then straight to spring training, where more innings were accumulated but not counted in the record.  I wish there had been more of a pitch count, though.  Some games, such as my first game against the Dodgers, were 85 pitches for nine innings, no strain; other games, 150-160 in seven or eight innings.  In my opinion, pitch count is more important than innings limit.”

To Simpson’s displeasure, Sparky Anderson sent him down to start the 1972 season in Indianapolis.  After returning to the Reds in May, he was 8-5, 4.14, starting 22 times in 24 appearances.

In late September, tension resurfaced.  As Sports Illustrated wrote, “Both Gary Nolan and Wayne Simpson were accused of having arm problems more mental than physical.”  Both men endured unbelievable pain from serious physical causes and did anything they could to get out on the mound.

Though available, Simpson did not appear in the 1972 postseason.  On November 30, the Reds traded him along to the Kansas City Royals.  Toward the end of the year, Simpson made his feelings about the Reds organization plain.

“They were unfair to me and never were truthful.  They’d tell me that I’d pitch on certain days, then those days would come around and I wouldn’t be pitching.  That has to upset a person.  After the World Series, I was steaming.  It was building up for some time.  I mean they promised me that I’d pitch in the Series and I didn’t.  It was evident that I didn’t fit into their plans and I asked them to trade me.”  He added that if he pitched a bad game, he would have to “sit around for two weeks without pitching.

He called the departure from Cincinnati “the first good news I’ve gotten in 2 1/2 years.  This trade should give me a fresh start.” Simpson went 5-2 in the Minors, and impressed Royals manager Jack McKeon.  Said McKeon, “He showed the real good fast ball several times but impressed me even more with his maturity.  Simpson’s not merely a thrower.  He’s a pitcher.”

Things didn’t work out in Kansas City, though.  The Royals sent Simpson down to Triple-A Omaha in late June with a record of 3-4 and a 5.65 Earned Run Average in 14 games.  He got into two more big-league games after the rosters expanded in September, getting knocked out of the box in the first inning in his last appearance on September 21.

Simpson had a very strong spring training in 1974 and thought he had made the Kansas City roster.  Yet at the end of camp, the Royals traded him to the Pittsburgh Pirates.  He spent the entire season at Triple-A Charleston.  Though his record was an undistinguished 9-10, his Earned Run Average wound up at a respectable 3.32.

The following spring, he said, “Being back in the minors just didn’t sit right.  I wasn’t mentally sharp.  I was disappointed at being there and it affected my pitching. [In July] I said to myself, ‘The heck with it.  Go out there and prove you don’t belong here.”  He went on to register a 1.70 Earned Run Average during the rest of the season.

Simpson did not make the Pirates roster in spring training 1975.  On April 5, Pittsburgh traded him to the Philadelphia Phillies.  Simpson remained in Triple-A with the Toledo Mud Hens, then Philadelphia’s top affiliate.  Under manager Jim Bunning, he enjoyed something of a revival himself, going 12-7 with a 2.17 Earned Run Average — including a seven-inning no-hitter on June 20.

He also instilled a fighting spirit in teammate Dick Ruthven, who told author William Kashatus about it.  After the Richmond Braves shelled Ruthven one day, “Wayne came up to me in the clubhouse and told me, ‘Don’t you ever quit.  I went through the same thing you’re going through.  Don’t give up.  If you do, it’s going to be you and me, one on one.’”  After the no-hitter, Ruthven told Simpson, “As badly as I want to go back up, they should take you.”  Simpson shot back, “Don’t ever say you’d rather have someone else go up.  You can get buried down here.”

The Phillies did give Simpson a chance to get back to the majors, almost two years after he had last been there.  He performed well posting a 1-0 record with a 3.23 earned run average over five starts in seven games.

In April 1976, the California Angels purchased Simpson’s contract from the Phillies organization.  Once again at Triple-A he posted another winning record of 13-8 in 28 starts.  His Earned Run Average rose to 4.24, though, and he saw no big-league action.

In spring training 1977, Simpson described how he had changed since his injury, “I’m not sure I’d like to pitch the way I used to.  I used to throw entirely with my arm.  Now I throw with my body and with technique.  It’s a lot easier to throw 80 pitches a game than 135.  I still throw the fastball.  I can’t judge how fast it is any more.”

Simpson spent the entire 1977 season with the Angels, but the results were not good posting a 6-12 record with a 5.83 earned run average.

California released Wayne after the season, but in March 1978, he signed as a free agent with the Los Angeles Dodgers.  In the past he had been reluctant to go to Triple-A, but again he accepted the assignment.  He labored through 22 starts with L.A.’s top farm club, the Albuquerque Dukes, going 8-10 with an inflated 6.18 Earned Run Average.

As so many other players have done over the years, Simpson gave it a last shot in Mexico.  He joined the Mexico City Tigres.  When he reached the end of the line, though, it was a truly scary experience.  Following the most severe bout of the arm and shoulder cramps he had been battling for years, the pitcher spent two weeks of rest on doctor’s orders.  Then he tried to warm up in the bullpen.   He said, “My arm just knotted up, and my hand got cold and white — no feeling in it whatsoever.  The doctor realized there was no blood circulating in my hand.  He rubbed it and told me that I had to have an operation right away, or I could lose the hand.”

Simpson had a blood clot in his arm and was fortunate not to wind up suffering a stroke.  That fate befell J.R. Richard of the Houston Astros the next year, 1980.  Richard too had been told that his ailment was all in his head.  Richard and Simpson were two extreme examples of thoracic outlet syndrome, a repetitive stress disorder to which pitchers are prone.

In 2011, Simpson said, “The doctors later told me that the force of pitching kept my blood clots down.  Otherwise they could have traveled from my subclavian artery to my head.  They wanted to operate in Mexico City, but I said I didn’t want to do it there.”  He was rushed home and endured four bypass operations in an effort to restore normal circulation.  He later said, “When a dye was finally put in.  It illuminated the inside of my arm and pictures were revealing.  The doctors were amazed at what they saw.  Over the course of my pitching career, I had rubbed out an entire artery.”

Amazingly, Simpson still wanted to come back and pitch after the second procedure.  Yet at age 32 in 1981, he could barely lift a cup of coffee with his right hand.  He could not write more than half a page with a pen before his hand would start to grow numb.  That curtailed his studies toward a real-estate broker’s license, which he had started before going to Mexico.  He and his family got by, however, thanks to a small big-league pension.  He said, “This is no sad story.  I’m doing fine now.  I really am.  For the first time, I’m really able to enjoy my family.  I gave baseball my best shot.  And bitter?  I don’t think so.  But I am realistic.

When asked how his arm and hand felt, Simpson responded frankly, “It hurts!  I still have pain in the hand and under the arm.  It’s a permanent disability.  I’m just used to it now.”  He added more insight about the medical road he traveled.  “The first four bypasses would not take.  The clots came back.   went to the clinic of Dr. Denton Cooley in Texas, and they did a sympathectomy.”  This more radical procedure involves cutting nerves in the chest to help restore the flow of blood to the arm and hand.

“But the sympathectomy just released blood to the veins,” Simpson continued. “The artery is gone.  I have had one health problem after another, and it all goes back to pitching with that torn rotator cuff, taking cortisone shot after cortisone shot.  But mentally, I’m fine.”

Once Simpson got back from Mexico, his involvement with baseball had ended.  He has not done any coaching, although when asked, he offered an intriguing view of what happened to the once-thriving African-American baseball scene in Los Angeles.  “I’m not really in touch today but I don’t see the opportunities.  Most of the players coming out of high school today, it’s basketball or football.  We had a network — now there aren’t the leagues.  You need at least 18 players and more, plus sponsors.  A lot of the gang activity took over the parks.  Now there’s not as much gang activity, but the leagues didn’t come back.”

Despite all he has endured, Wayne Simpson is a cheerful man who laughs easily.  He reaffirmed in 2011 what he had said 30 years before about how things turned out. “I’m happy with it.  At first, I was bitter.  Athletes today know — and I know now — it’s not just a game, it’s a business too.  But I enjoyed baseball.  I enjoyed the guys I played with.  I enjoyed the teams.”

A large part of this biography comes from the SABR Baseball Biography Project written by Rory Costello.  It can be found online at http://bioproj.sabr.org

Leave a comment at the BHP web site at baseballhistorypodcast.com or write a review on iTunes, search for Baseball History Podcast.

You can email me at baseballhistory@gmail.com.

Well, that’s it for today’s Baseball History Podcast.  I’ll see you later at the ballpark.

This is game 19 of the 2012 baseball season.

In the first inning let’s take a look at This Week in Baseball History for the 2 week of May.

May 9

1901 Indians’ hurler Earl Moore holds the White Sox hitless for nine innings before giving up two hits in the tenth inning to lose, 4-2.

Earl Alonzo Moore, nicknamed “Crossfire”, was born July 29, 1877 in Pickerington, Ohio.

Most sources state that Moore was born in Pickerington, Ohio on July 29, 1879 or 1878, but official birth records for Violet Township in Ohio’s Fairfield County indicate that the future major-leaguer actually began life on July 29, 1877, under the name of Alonzo Moore.

A strikeout pitcher with streaks of wildness, Moore whipped the ball in with an intimidating, sweeping sidearm motion from the very end of the rubber.

Moore ranked as one of the American League’s most promising young players during the first five years of its existence.  He appeared poised for greatness.  But a drive through the box on an afternoon late in 1905 tore apart Moore’s left foot.  Though the injury so debilitated him that he managed only six big-league victories over the next three seasons, it would not be the end of his career.  After regaining his form in the minors, Moore became an 18- and 22-game winner for the Philadelphia Phillies staff in 1909 and 1910, respectively, before tapering off and finishing with the Federal League in 1914.

Moore drew the attention of professional scouts playing semi-pro baseball.  In 1900 he overwhelmed hitters with his exceptional velocity and registered a 24–11 record, including a no-hitter.  His rise perfectly coincided with the formation of the American League in 1901, and the newly born Cleveland club snapped up for $1,000.

Moore started the second game in Cleveland American League history–a 7–3 loss at Chicago.  After his home debut–a 6–3 victory over Milwaukee–the Cleveland Plain Dealer remarked that “he showed wonderful speed–almost up to the quality possessed by Cy Young in his best days, and fairly good control.”

Moore often relied on his fastball against opponents, but he mixed in some “speedy benders,” too.  Perhaps most aggravating to hitters was Moore’s signature “crossfire” pitching technique.  In this unusual delivery, Moore cleverly toed the side edges of the rubber and, augmenting his wide mound position with a sidearm throwing motion, hurled pitches plateward at puzzling angles.  Moore lamented his peers’ reluctance to try the method: “They rely on curves and changes of pace.  Both are essential to success, but how much better they might succeed if they would only change from one side of the pitcher’s plate to the other.  That is what constitutes the crossfire, in addition to the ability to stand with one foot on the extreme corner of the plate and step out and deliver the ball at the same time.”

In just his fourth outing, the 23-year-old soared to prominence by spinning the American League’s first-ever nine-inning no-hitter on May 9 against the Chicago White Sox, though he lost both the no-hitter and the game in the tenth frame.

Moore overcame other setbacks in 1901 and fashioned a solid rookie season.  Despite poor control, that included107 walks, 13 wild pitches, he went 16–14, pitched four shutouts.  Not surprisingly, considering his age and burgeoning reputation as an overpowering pitcher, Moore let the success go to his head–though he did so in typically endearing fashion.  The Washington Post noted, “Moore carries the title of ‘Steam Engine in Boots, and after his name in the hotel registers always appears the letters ‘S.E.I.B.’”

The cockiness may have been justified, given the amount of attention paid him by National League clubs.  Cincinnati and New York took turns trying to pry the talented pitcher loose from Cleveland in 1901 and 1902.  Moore’s defection to the National League seemed so certain in late July of 1902 that The Sporting News felt compelled to print a front-page subhead declaring, “Moore Has Not Jumped.”

On the diamond Moore overcame a spring-training bout with pleurisy to produce a mixed bag of a season in 1902.  He finished in the top ten in wins, Earned Run Average, strikeouts, and shutouts, but continued to be plagued by wildness, leading the league in walks and finishing fifth in losses.

Throwing a baseball seemed easy for Moore in 1903.  Adding 20 pounds to his frame and a $3,000 salary to his wallet, he enjoyed his greatest season in the American League, going 19–9 with a league-leading 1.74 Earned Run Average.  He placed in the top ten of nearly every major pitching category, though at the outset, after a terrible 1–4 start, it appeared the year might be a disaster.  Employing his scythe-like delivery, Moore captured 18 of his next 23 decisions–including 11 out of 12 from mid-July until the end of August.  He beat every club in the league at least twice.  He completed all 27 of his starts, and in 22 of those, allowed eight hits or fewer.  His sub-2.00 Earned Run Average easily outpaced runner-up Cy Young’s by a third of a run.

Moore’s achievements would have been even more impressive, except that twice within a month the right-hander absorbed line drives off his pitching arm–one of them from the bat of teammate Charlie Hickman on July 24, while throwing batting practice.  The damage to Moore’s arm caused him to miss the final month of the season.

Shrugging off a mediocre 1904 season–marred by rheumatism and a sliding injury–Moore started with an excellent 13–7 start in 1905 and helped propel Cleveland into first place by late July.  Then Moore’s career came instantly crashing down.  In a game against the Highlanders at New York on August 1, a line drive ricocheted off Moore’s foot, damaging muscles and ligaments.  The severity of the injury apparently was not recognized right away, because he finished the contest and continued to take his regular turn in the rotation until early September, possibly hurting the foot further.  Clearly, Moore was not right during the final two months of the season: he was regularly shelled and went 2–8 the rest of the way.

As the 1906 season drew near, the dire nature of Moore’s injury became public.  The renowned sports chiropractor, Bonesetter Reese, issued a statement from Youngstown, saying, “…pitcher Earl Moore will be of no use to the Cleveland Americans this year.  The muscles of Moore’s left foot … have been torn loose, allowing the instep bone to drop down and making the pitcher flat-footed.”

Moore and his Cleveland physicians disputed Reese’s claim and predicted a return to the hill in 8 to 10 weeks.  But it proved to be wishful thinking and Reese’s prognosis was right on: the Cleveland hurler saw action in just five games for the year.

Not yet 30 years old, the right-hander’s career slid off the major league map.  Struggling to mend his foot and regain form early in 1907, Moore was dealt to the New York Highlanders.  The fresh start in New Yorl failed to resurrect Moore: he finished the campaign at just 3–7 in 15 games.

Finally, a minor league stint with Jersey City of the Eastern League beginning in August 1907 turned out to be just the right elixir.  He went 13–12 for the Skeeters in 1908 and performed so encouragingly that the Philadelphia Phillies acquired him at the end of that season.

Moore astounded major league baseball in 1909 with an amazing comeback.  Still using his rapid crossfire delivery, he became the ace of the Phillies staff and quickly ascended to the top echelon of National League hurlers.  Despite persistent control problems–his 108 walks led the National League–Moore went 18–12 with a 2.10 Earned Run Average for a 74–79 team that finished in the second division.

Known variously in the Philadelphia press as Big Earl, Big Moose, and Big Ebbie, Moore made it all the way back to the big time on August 19 by defeating Christy Mathewson, 1–0, at the Baker Bowl.  He followed it up with an electrifying 1910 campaign, pacing the league in shutouts and strikeouts, and finishing third in wins with 22. P

hillies catcher–manager Red Dooin used Moore wisely, yanking him at the first sign that his pitches were not finding the plate; he lasted just one inning in a loss to the Cubs on September 16.  Other times, Dooin permitted him to go the distance and even well into extra innings when Moore found a groove.  Moore also received occasional relief assignments.

Future Hall of Fame umpire Bill Klem marveled at Moore’s mound mastery.  In January 1911 he said, “…I believe that Earl Moore, of the Phillies, has more stuff on his ball than any other pitcher I worked behind during the summer.  Really, I never saw a more deceptive ball to judge than Moore’s cross-fire.  It comes up to you at a peculiar angle, and if it’s half as hard to hit as it is for an umpire to judge, then I can easily understand why the batters don’t fatten their averages when Moore is working.  His speed is tremendous, and his curves fast breaking.  There are a lot of great pitchers in the National League, but Moore is the one best bet to me.”

Even when he was not on the hill, Moore could be tough on opponents.  While coaching first base one April afternoon against New York in 1911, he drew the rage of John McGraw when, at the conclusion of an umpire dispute, he called the Giants manager a “wife murderer”, referring to the 1899 story of McGraw’s first wife dying tragically at age 22 of a burst appendix.  Already irked that Moore had shut out his Giants twice that season, McGraw grabbed a bat and went after him.  Before McGraw could get to Moore, however, the Philadelphia police broke up the skirmish.

Moore’s pitching renaissance turned out to be short-lived.  En route to a disappointing 15–19 record in 1911, he began to fall out of favor with Philadelphia management due to his wildness on the mound–and off it, too.  Reports ran rampant that he regularly broke team rules, failed to stay in condition, and did not give his best on the mound.

The Phillies tried to peddle Moore to various National League clubs but to no avail.  The Phillies kept him for the 1912 season but he was, once again, injured by a batted ball; this time breaking his finger.

The Phillies finally unloaded him to the Cubs in 1913, and Moore’s major league career concluded in 1914 when, at long last, he jumped to an outlaw team and league, the Buffalo Federals.  He went 11–15 with a horrendous 4.30 Earned Run Average to close out his topsy-turvy ride in the big leagues at 162 wins and154 losses.

Following his playing days, Moore retired to his native Pickerington and became identified later in life primarily as the man who threw the first American League no-hitter.  This distinction, however, was taken away from Moore in 1991 by Major League Baseball’s rules committee, which ruled that only a complete hitless game of nine innings or more counts as a no-hitter.

Earl Moore died on November 28, 1961 in Columbus, Ohio at age 84.

A large part of this biography comes from the SABR Baseball Biography Project written by Tony Bunting.  It can be found online at http://bioproj.sabr.org

Leave a comment at the BHP web site at baseballhistorypodcast.com or write a review on iTunes, search for Baseball History Podcast.

You can email me at baseballhistory@gmail.com.

Well, that’s it for today’s Baseball History Podcast.  I’ll see you later at the ballpark.

This is game 18 of the 2012 baseball season.

In the first inning let’s take a look at This Week in Baseball History for the 1 week of May.

May 2

1917 At Wrigley Field, southpaw Hippo Vaughn of Chicago and Reds righty Fred Toney throw no-hitters against one another through the first nine innings. The deadlock is broken in the top of the tenth with a one-out single by Larry Kopf, an error and an infield hit by Jim Thorpe. Toney then sets the Cubs down in order to preserve his extra inning gem.

Fred Alexandra Toney was born on December 11, 1888, just outside Nashville in rural Davidson County, Tennessee.

Fred Toney is best remembered as the victor of perhaps the greatest pitchers’ duel in major-league history, a 1917 game in which he and Jim Vaughn both pitched no-hitters over the first nine innings.  What is often forgotten is that Toney also was one of the National League’s best pitchers from 1915 to 1921.  Despite pitching with a lack of run support for several of those seasons, the 6’1″, 195 lb. right-handed fastball pitcher reached the 20-win plateau twice.

Though he lacked a formal education, Toney more than made up for it with exceptional strength.  He often amazed his teammates by taking two 50-lb. weights, one in each hand, and holding them out at arm’s length from his body.

The Chicago Cubs purchased Toney from from minor league Winchester, Kentucky in August 1910, even though Toney had tried to look bad in the presence of the Chicago scout.  Preferring to pitch for a minor-league team in the South, the 22-year-old Tennessee native didn’t report to the Cubs until 1911.  Even then he didn’t seem to be giving his all.  Over the next two-and-a-half seasons Toney bounced back and forth between Chicago and Louisville of the American Association, compiling a combined 4-5 record in only 11 starts and 23 relief appearances.

On July 1, 1913, the Cubs finally gave up on him and sold him outright to Louisville, where he remained through the end of the 1914 season.

After the Brooklyn Robins drafted him in the winter of 1914, Toney said that he “would rather play with the Feds for cigarette money than the salary the Brooklyn club is offering.”

Following a false report that he had signed with the Federal League’s Pittsburgh Stogies, Brooklyn placed him on waivers and the Cincinnati Reds claimed him on February 22, 1915.  That season Toney became one of the best pitchers in the National League.  He went 17-9 and placed second in the National League in winning percentage and Earned Run Average.

Toney’s record would have been even better if he had pitched for a better team; the Reds finished in seventh place in 1915 and ranked last in the National League in runs scored.

Pitching a team-high 300 innings in 1916, Toney posted a 2.28 Earned Run Average but continued to be plagued by lack of run support, compiling a 14-17 record.  In August of that year he stated that he could be a 25-game winner if the Reds would give him the four runs per game he felt he deserved, instead of the 2.5 runs he thought he was receiving.

Those first two seasons in Cincinnati were just a prelude for 1917, the finest season of Toney’s career.  He went 24-16 with a 2.20 Earned Run Average, placing second in the National League.

On July 1, 1917, Toney pitched a pair of three-hitters, winning both ends of a doubleheader against the Pittsburgh Pirates, but his best performance of the season came on May 2 against the Chicago Cubs.  A crowd of only 3,500 attended that day’s match-up between Toney and Jim “Hippo” Vaughn, and through the first nine innings neither pitcher allowed a hit.

Only Cy Williams had reached base off Toney, drawing walks in his first two trips to the plate.  Vaughn finally unraveled in the 10th inning.  Larry Kopf singled, went to third on an error, and scored on a poorly played grounder hit by Jim Thorpe. T oney set down the Cubs in order in the bottom half, giving him the win and a 10-inning no-hitter.

Fred Toney’s life took a dramatic downturn after the 1917 season.  First a United States Marshal arrested him for attempting to avoid the draft.  It was alleged that Toney had falsely claimed his wife, child, and parents as dependants even though he hadn’t lived with his wife for the three years prior to signing his draft statement.  During his trial, which ended in a hung jury, it came out that Toney was traveling with a young woman who was not his wife.  In April 1918 he was arrested again, this time for violating the Mann Act, which prevented the transportation of minors across state lines for sexual purposes.

The Cincinnati fans were merciless to Toney at the start of the 1918 season.  His pitching suffered, and his record stood at 6-10 when the Reds sold him to the New York Giants on July 25.  After his move to the bigger city, he rebounded to go 6-2 with a 1.69 Earned Run Average for the rest of the season.

Reporting to the Giants in May 1919 after pleading guilty to the Mann Act charge and spending time in prison, Toney posted a 13-6 record with the National League’s fourth-best Earned Run Average.  He also proved his honesty by turning down teammate Heinie Zimmerman’s offer to throw a game, reporting the bribe to John McGraw after the first inning.  Zimmerman was suspended from the Giants and eventually banned from baseball.

Toney pitched well for two more seasons in New York, going 21-11 in 1920 (when he was one of three 20-game winners on the Giants staff) and 18-11 in 1921.  In the latter year he played in his only World Series, failing to last more than three innings in either of his two starts against the Yankees.

Toney’s dismal performance in the 1921 World Series signaled the beginning of his downfall as a pitcher.  In 1922 he started the season 5-6 with a 4.17 Earned Run Average when the Giants sent him to the Boston Braves on July 30.  On hearing the news, Fred took a train to Nashville where he announced his retirement.   He said, “I have $50,000 and don’t have to play baseball with the Braves”.

That October the St. Louis Cardinals claimed Toney on waivers and he decided to report in 1923.  The veteran pitcher quit baseball again in the second inning of a game on June 23, 1923, after an altercation with Cardinals shortstop Specs Toporcer, but returned to finish the season 11-12 with a 3.84 Earned Run Average.

At spring training the following year Toney injured the middle finger of his pitching hand while attempting to bunt.  He was unable to grip the ball properly and the Cardinals released him.  Fred went home to Nashville and pitched for the local Southern Association club through 1925.

After his retirement from baseball, Fred Toney farmed and operated a soft drink and sandwich stand that was decorated with memorabilia from his career in professional baseball. During World War II he served as a security guard at an aircraft plant near Nashville. After the war Toney worked as a court officer for the Davidson County Sheriff’s Office. He held that job until his death

Fred Toney died on March 11, 1953 in Nashville, Tennessee at age 64.

A large part of this biography comes from the SABR Baseball Biography Project written by Brian Marshall.  It can be found online at http://bioproj.sabr.org

Leave a comment at the BHP web site at baseballhistorypodcast.com or write a review on iTunes, search for Baseball History Podcast.

You can email me at baseballhistory@gmail.com.

Well, that’s it for today’s Baseball History Podcast.  I’ll see you later at the ballpark.

This is game 17 of the 2012 baseball season.

In the first inning let’s take a look at This Week in Baseball History for the 4 week of April.

April 26

1931 At Washington’s Griffith Stadium, a walk to Lyn Lary is followed by a Lou Gehrig home run, a smash which clears the fence, but bounces back into the hands of centerfielder Harry Rice. The base runner Lary thinks the ball has been caught on the fly for the third out returning to the dugout without crossing home plate, and the ‘Iron Horse’, running with head down, is ruled out for passing a runner in front of him costing the Yankees a possible win.

Lynford Hobart Lary, nicknamed “Broadway”, was born January 28, 1906 in Armona, California.

Lary was a well-traveled shortstop.  He played for six different teams in a span of twelve years, including two stints with the St. Louis Browns and played for three teams in 1939.  Primarily a singles hitter, Lary was a good defensive player with good hands and a strong arm.

Babe Ruth called him “Broadway” because Lary loved the theater in New York.  His obituary in The Sporting News said he “tried his best to live up to the nickname the Babe hung on him.  He was one of the best dressers in the majors and drove a big eight-cylinder car that had a silver nameplate on the door.”  Lary married Mary Lawlor, who was part of the original 1925 cast in former Boston Red Sox owner Harry Frazee’s Broadway musical No, No, Nanette.

Lary was part of a couple of the bigger money deals of the 1920s and 1930s, but “never quite lived up to baseball expectations,” despite posting a respectable .269 career batting average.

On January 9, 1928 the New York Yankees purchased the contracts of Lary and second baseman Jimmie Reese from the Oakland Oaks of the Pacific Coast League, though they agreed to leave both with the Oaks to play out the season.

The Yankees had been so well-stocked with star players that they could afford to wait until 1929.  When he had the opportunity, Lary made a mark in his game at Yankee Stadium.  He made his debut in Detroit on May 11, taking over for Tony Lazzeri during a blowout loss.

Lary was competing for playing time with Leo Durocher at shortstop.  He had started a month later, but except for some downtime in July, he played fairly regularly the rest of the season.  Both shortstops were right-handed hitters, but Lary seemed to have a hotter bat and in 80 games, he hit .309 to Durocher’s .246.  In February 1930 Durocher’s contract was sold to the Cincinnati Reds.

Lary became the Yankees’ regular shortstop in 1930, appearing in 117 games and hitting at a .289 pace.  A fractured thumb on June 20 cost him two weeks.  He still had work to do in his fielding, next-to-worst in the league at his position with a .940 fielding percentage.  He remained subpar much of his career, but hit significantly better than most shortstops of the day.  There were stories early on about how frustrated manager Miller Huggins could be with Lary’s fielding.

Mental errors seemed to be the problem as much as anything; he also received some criticism for “heedless base-running.” The New York World-Telegram’s Dan Daniel characterized it as a “‘blind spot’ in his mentality.  Sometimes, as he fielded the ball in a tight situation, his mind would go blank.  He would hold the ball just too long and suddenly haul off with a wild heave.”

In 1931 Lary appeared in every one of New York’s 155 games.  He hit .280 for new manager Joe McCarthy and drove in 107 runs, scoring an even 100, ten of them on home runs he’d hit.  Overall, the season home-run and Runs Batted In marks were the best of his career.

Early in the year came another mental lapse.  It came in the top of the ninth, with two outs and New York down by two runs. Lefty Gomez told the story several years later: “Lou Gehrig was fighting Babe Ruth for the home run championship.  I think they finished in a tie, 49 to 49.  Lary was on base.  Gehrig belted one of his super-specials over the right-field wall, and jogged around, for the ball game.  We kept our eyes on Gehrig.  We never paid any attention to Lary.  He touched third, and then streaked for the dugout, where he took a drink of water. … [Gehrig rounded the bases and crossed the plate – where he was ruled out, for passing Lary on the basepaths].  We did not realize that Lary had failed to score, and that the Gehrig home run was nullified.  Lary could not explain the lapse.”

Lary did say that the ball had landed in the seats and then popped back onto the field and that he thought that Gehrig had flied out. The game ended without either run scoring, and the Yankees lost, 9-7.  Gehrig was credited with a triple.

Lary did miss some games in 1932, with Frankie Crosetti playing shortstop in 116 games and Lary in just 91.  Even before the season had begun, there was some expectation that Crosetti might displace Lary at short.  The Yankees had finished in second place in 1931, and Lary– who impressed McCarthy as a “game fighter” – was the early choice for shortstop.  Neither player had strong offensive seasons; Crosetti hit .241 and Lary hit .232.

In 1933 McCarthy let the two (plus Billy Werber) fight it out to see who would be shortstop.  Crosetti got most of the work and hit .253 in 136 games, while Lary appeared in only 52, playing third base in 32 of them, and batting .220.

Lary’s name came up in trade rumors during the offseason; he was on the block, for sure.  The Tigers were interested in him to play third base. But he also had value as backup insurance for Crosetti, and the Yankees still held out hope he’d begin to play more to what they saw as his greater potential.  McCarthy used Lary in only two games in 1934, as a pinch-runner on April 30, when he scored a run, and on May 10, when he walked in his only plate appearance of the year for the Yankees.

On May 15 Lary was traded to the Boston Red Sox.  He was leaving the very successful Yankees to a Red Sox team that had barely been out of last place for more than ten years, but such was his timing even with the Ruth and Gehrig Yankees that he never once appeared in postseason play.

Though he didn’t wield a powerful bat, there were hopes that Lary might blossom in Boston.  He was, after all, only 28.  The Boston Post’s Paul Shannon wrote, “The prospect of playing regularly may inspire a veteran, forced to warm the Yankee bench, to show up better than he ever did with Joe McCarthy’s team.”  A month later, Shannon said, “Lyn Lary, worn out by warming the New York bench for several seasons, never regarded as a strong hitter … proves to be just the man that the Red Sox were looking for.  In the line-up regularly, he works beautifully as a running mate for Bill Werber, and any drive that gets by either of these alert infielders is a genuine hit.”

For Boston, Lary hit .241 but drew a good number of bases on balls and had an on-base percentage of .344.  And he served as fodder for one of the more momentous trades in team history – to provide the Washington Senators with a shortstop in exchange for Joe Cronin.  Washington also pocketed perhaps $250,000 – at the time the largest amount ever spent for a player.  Consummated on October 26, this was the second big-money deal in Lary’s career, though in this case Cronin was the main man.  Lary was not just a throw-in, though.  Paul Shannon rated him highly: “[T]he Red Sox gave the Senators a man who practically made the Red Sox infield in 1934.  While Lary never rated as a hard hitter, his fine work at short atoned for any weakness with the bat.”  His .965 fielding percentage led all shortstops in the American League.

With the Senators, Lary faced some unexpected competition from Ossie Bluege, but won the shortstop job – at first.  But with Lary batting only .194 after 39 games, the Senators handed the job to Bluege and traded Lary to the St. Louis Browns on June 29.  Playing under manager Rogers Hornsby, Lary hit .288 in the 93 games he played as a regular for the Browns.

In 1936 he enjoyed the best season of his career.  He hit .289, with a .404 on-base percentage and led the league in stolen bases with 37.  In mid-September Hornsby said he rated Lary the best shortstop in the league.  Early in 1936 Hornsby said, “I credit his showing to the fact that he regained his confidence.  Lary is a player who must be in the game regularly.”

Hornsby had gotten another good season out of Lary, but there were apparently some points of friction, and with the Browns under new ownership, a January 17, 1937, swap sent Lary, Julius Solters, and Ivy Andrews to Cleveland for Joe Vosmik, Bill Knickerbocker, and Oral Hildebrand.

Solters seems to have had some of the same issues with Hornsby’s style as did Lary.  Initial fan reaction to the trade was positive in St. Louis, but not so in Cleveland, mainly because Vosmik had been a fan favorite.  Cleveland sportswriter Ed Bang spoke well of the new Tribe shortstop: “Lary not only is a better defensive player than Knick, but his aggressiveness may fire a club that long has been lacking in spirit.”

The Indians couldn’t have been disappointed: Lary’s production was almost precisely the same as in 1936.  Going 3-for-4 on Opening Day didn’t hurt.  He hit over .300 most of the year until September but finished at .290 and drove in 77.  He was considered an untouchable for 1938, not available in any trade talks.

Lary regressed in pretty much every category in 1938, dropping to .268 in average, and though his fielding percentage was second in the league, there was indication that his range wasn’t the same.  Ed McAuley wrote, “Toward the end of the season, Lary was no Jesse Owens at moving to his left.”  General Manager Cy Slapnicka of the Indians fielded at least four offers for Lary, however.  He was hoping Lary would bounce back from a disappointing year, but there was a strong sense that he was more reconciled than hopeful.  Lary was also a bit of a pain; ever since his first season in New York, he was almost always one of the last players to sign his contract, either holding out or flirting with holdout status.

As with New York five years earlier, Lary was barely used for the first couple of weeks of the 1939 season, appearing in just two games without a hit in either of his two plate appearances.  The Indians sold his contract to the Brooklyn Dodgers on May 3.  It’s not clear Lary even provided that much value for Brooklyn.  He collected 46 plate appearances in 29 games and hit just .161 with a total of one run batted in.  And he didn’t finish the year with the Dodgers; they sold his contract to the St. Louis Cardinals on August 14.

With St. Louis Lary plugged a hole at shortstop, but didn’t hit that much better, batting .187 in 96 at-bats over 34 games.

In 1940 Lary didn’t get to play in even one early -season Cardinals game before he was unconditionally released on April 23.  Three days later, he signed as a free agent with the other St. Louis team, working again for the Browns.  His career just petered out.  He appeared in 27 games for the Browns, batting .056 in 61 plate appearances.  He played his last major-league game on August 7 and he was released nine days later.

Lyn Lary died on January 9, 1973 in Downey, California, at age 66.

A large part of this biography comes from the SABR Baseball Biography Project written by Bill Nowlin.  It can be found online at http://bioproj.sabr.org

Leave a comment at the BHP web site at baseballhistorypodcast.com or write a review on iTunes, search for Baseball History Podcast.

You can email me at baseballhistory@gmail.com.

Well, that’s it for today’s Baseball History Podcast.  I’ll see you later at the ballpark.

This is game 16 of the 2012 baseball season.

In the first inning let’s take a look at This Week in Baseball History for the 3 week of April.

April 19

1948 The Red Sox become the first team to hit three consecutive homers (Stan Spence, Vern Stephens and Bobby Doerr) on Opening Day, but the long ball isn’t enough as the A’s beats Boston in 11 innings, 5-4.

Stanley Orville Spence was born on March 20, 1915, in South Portsmouth, KY.

He was a left-handed hitter with some power and was a superlative outfielder with fine range and throwing ability.

Spence had the misfortune of being a young outfielder for the Red Sox at a time when the team was developing Ted Williams and Dom DiMaggio.  A trade to the Washington Senators gave him his opportunity to shine, and his five years in the nation’s capital landed him on four All-Star teams as one of the best players in the American League.

He signed in 1935 with the Boston Red Sox.  Despite a growing minor league resume, Spence spent 1939 with Louisville, the Red Sox’ highest minor league affiliate.

The Boston club was filled with outfielders at this time, with Ted Williams, Doc Cramer, and Joe Vosmik manning posts in 1939, and the arrivals of Lou Finney and Dom DiMaggio in 1940. Spence hit .289 with Louisville in 1939 and .256 over the first 11 games in 1940.

In early June, the 25-year-old Spence was finally promoted to the major leagues.  He hit .279 in 68 at-bats in a reserve role over the remainder of the 1940 season, and .232 in 203 at-bats the next season.  DiMaggio had become a star on both offense and defense, and Spence was the odd man out.  After the season, the Red Sox dealt him to the Washington Senators.  Spence was an afterthought in this deal, but turned out to be the best player involved.  It proved to be the best thing that happened to Spence in his baseball career.

Senators manager Bucky Harris named Spence his starting center fielder.  A month into the season, Spence was hitting over .400, and he did not seem surprised by it.  Spence related to The Sporting News, “I was good enough to play regularly in that Boston outfield, but they kept me on the bench.  The few times they played me, I was taken out when I started to hit my stride.  I think I’m as good a player as Dominic DiMaggio.”

Spence stayed in the batting race all season, finishing third behind Ted Williams and Johnny Pesky with his .323 average.  He also recorded 203 hits and a league-leading 15 triples.  Local observers considered Spence, a fan favorite, the best defensive center fielder in Washington since Sam West a decade earlier.

Spence struggled to start the 1943 season, hovering near .200 over the first two months, and not striking his first home run until July 3.  In late July he was benched briefly, but he finished strong — hitting .267 with 12 home runs and 88 Runs Batted In, while continuing to shine in center field.  He batted in the middle of the order during all his years with the Senators, usually hitting third, fourth, or fifth.  The left-handed hitter was hurt by his home park, hitting just two home runs in Griffith Stadium all year, and only 12 during his five years there.

Spence rebounded in 1944 to hit .316 with 18 home runs and 100 Runs Batted In, leading the league in Runs Batted In for much of the summer before finishing fourth behind Vern Stephens.  He also had an astonishing 29 outfield assists.  Though the club finished in last place for the first time since 1909, Spence was held blameless.  Shirley Povich wrote in The Sporting News, “The only player on the club who has played good ball, aside from some of the pitchers, is Stan Spence.”  Povich called Spence the best outfielder in the league.

Spence stayed out of the military for most of WWII because he was married with two children, and he was nearly 27 when the United States entered the war.  Finally reclassified in early 1945, Spence spent the next several months in the Army, mainly playing baseball at a base on Bainbridge Island, near Seattle.

Spence returned to the Senators and took right up where he left off in 1946, hitting .292 with 16 home runs and 50 doubles in 152 games.

The remarkably consistent center fielder had his usual fine season in 1947, hitting 16 home runs with a .279 batting average.  However, in December, the Senators traded Spence back to the Red Sox.  The Senators felt they had a surplus of outfielders.

Spence had had a very productive five years with the Senators, regularly placing in the top ten in numerous offensive categories, and being named to four All-Star teams.  Over his years in the capital, Spence had fine batting averages supplemented by high walk totals and midrange power, a very valuable package of skills for a good defensive center fielder.

Washington’s Griffith Stadium sapped power from most left-handed hitters, especially Spence — during his five years there he hit 11 home runs at home and 55 on the road, including 16 road homers in 1944 and 14 in 1946.  Over the five-year period, Spence was one of the very best players in the league, and it is no wonder the Red Sox regretted their earlier deal and wanted him back.

With center field still well-manned by Dom DiMaggio, new Boston skipper Joe McCarthy worked Spence at first base in the spring.  McCarthy explained the move, “I know what he can do in the outfield for I recall several bitter moments in Yankee Stadium at the hands of Spence.”

The 33-year-old Spence ended up playing 114 games in 1948, mostly in right field, but did not hit nearly as well as he had in Washington.  He finished at .235, though with 82 walks and 12 home runs.  The powerful Red Sox twice hit three straight home runs that season, the first team to accomplish the feat twice, and both times Spence was involved in the threesome.  Spence began the year hitting fourth in the order behind Ted Williams, though he soon fell down the order behind Vern Stephens and Bobby Doerr.

After just seven games in a reserve role in early 1949, in which he was 3 for 20, Spence was dealt to the St. Louis Browns.  Spence ended up playing 104 games for the Browns, and hit .245 with 13 home runs.

In February 1950 Spence was sold to the Los Angeles Angels of the Pacific Coast League. After another season plus a brief partial season in the minor leagues, Spence walked away from the game.  In his last contest, on May 8, he hit a two-run home run, but the next day decided to return home.

In a nine-season major league career, Spence was a .282 hitter with 95 home runs and 575 RBI in 1112 games.

Stan Spence died on January 9, 1983, in Kinston, North Carolina, at age 67.

A large part of this biography comes from the SABR Baseball Biography Project written by Mark Armour.  It can be found online at http://bioproj.sabr.org

Leave a comment at the BHP web site at baseballhistorypodcast.com or write a review on iTunes, search for Baseball History Podcast.

You can email me at baseballhistory@gmail.com.

Well, that’s it for today’s Baseball History Podcast.  I’ll see you later at the ballpark.